Fighting A Curse
by kittikat8531
Summary: After Rumple disappeared during the midseason finale and they went back, Belle and Neal chose to return to the Dark Castle. What they found shocked and horrified them. One-shot AU, Rumbelle. Please R&R.


AN: I didn't expect to actually write this, in all honesty. I've been considering it since Rumple's apparent death at the midseason finale, but once the show came back from hiatus and we found out what actually happened I thought I wouldn't care enough to do it anymore. Apparently, I was wrong. This is MY version of how Rumple survived, since the show just hand-waved through it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once or anything related except the DVDs.

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Being back in the Enchanted Forest was almost more than Belle could handle so soon on the heels of Rumplestiltskin's death. The weight of her golden ball gown had never felt more foreign, and even the comforting touch of the cloak he'd given her so long ago was a painful reminder that she'd lost him. This wasn't just a separation prompted by dark magic. He had sacrificed himself to save them all.

"I can't do this," she whispered. The rest of their party, the group of Storybrooke citizens that had emerged in the old world together, couldn't hear her over the general arguments and the dull roar of distrust Regina still summoned simply by being. Frustrated, she repeated the words more loudly.

Neal – Baelfire, here – took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know it's hard, but what else can we do?"

"I just want to go home. I don't care about rebuilding. I gave it all up when I made my deal anyway."

"Home?" he repeated, curious. "Avonlea? Or Papa's castle?"

"The Dark Castle is all that's really left of him. I just need to be near that."

For a long beat, Neal watched her. When she couldn't bear those too-familiar eyes much longer, he nodded. "The Dark Castle it is. We can go as soon as I let the Charmings know."

She forced herself to agree; the royal family was dealing with enough pressure without the added stress of searching for missing friends. Belle waited, her cloak pulled tightly around her, as Neal said their farewells and gathered more travel-appropriate clothes from the pile of goods Aurora and Phillip had collected for them. Regina was the only one who stopped to watch them go.

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The journey to the Dark Castle was surprisingly quiet. She knew Rumplestiltskin's lands were shielded by powerful spells, but there was no such magic keeping the beasts and bandits clear of the territories she and Neal had to cross to reach it. When the castle finally loomed over them, she felt like she was breathing for the first time since he'd vanished before her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin, despite his inconsistencies and faults, and the terrible difficulties they'd faced, had been the person she loved more than anything. If she couldn't have him, she at least wanted to be somewhere steeped in his memory.

The magic didn't resist her entrance, or Neal's, and she supposed there was no reason for it to. Rumple would've made allowances for her when she came to the castle, and he would never have allowed a spell to separate his son from him if some miracle brought him to their land. The heavy wooden doors groaned as they opened.

A trilling laugh pierced the stillness of the grand hall, and Belle jolted in shock. Half convinced she was imagining it, she turned to Neal only to find him as surprised as she was.

"Rumple," she gasped. Her pack and cloak hit the ground as she trembled, unsure. Her stillness didn't last; as soon as another echo reached their ears she was gone. It took Neal another few seconds to break through his tangled emotions and realize she'd left before pounding after her, afraid it was some sort of trap.

She knew the castle better than he did, had spent many long months cleaning its endless rooms, and Neal had to listen desperately for the quick footsteps or the remnants of laughter to guide him. He found Belle hesitating at a door in one of the taller towers, one hand on the knob and the other covering her mouth. Tears were trickling down her cheeks.

"That's Rumple's voice. I know it is."

"It does sound like him," Neal admitted, "but you know it could be a spell. It's probably not real."

"I know," she whispered. "Logically, it couldn't be him, right? We saw him die with Pan. At the same time I have to see if it's real."

"We can check," he promised, loosening his sword in its scabbard. "We just have to be smart about it. Go in armed and ready in case something tries to attack us."

Belle nodded shortly, reaching for the dagger strapped to her side as she eased the door open. It fell from her suddenly lifeless fingers with a dull clang as the room beyond came into view.

It was undoubtedly Rumplestiltskin, at least in terms of appearance. Neal had tried to forget the look of the mottled gold skin, the unnatural tone of the hair and the sharp claw-like nails of the Dark One, but those features had haunted his nightmares for centuries. The noise from Belle's dagger had him spinning, one hand raised and a threatening nimbus around it, but he stopped once he saw his visitors.

"Well!" he chirped. "If it isn't the maid and some new paramour. I thought you were betrothed, dearie!"

"P-paramour? Paramour!" Neal sputtered.

Belle took a few cautious steps forward. "Rumple? Is that really you?"

The Dark One frowned at her. "I don't know who else you'd be expecting in my castle, in my private lab, no less. And where did you get that? You're not supposed to leave the grounds."

Her eyes widened in shock, but before it was enough for him to comment she bowed her head. "I'm sorry; I didn't realize I'd gone too far. I'll send him away."

"It's getting awfully filthy in here!" Rumple called after her as she practically shoved Neal out of the room. "I expect it to be spotless by tomorrow!"

Belle hauled the dumbfounded man down the stairs and through countless corridors before slamming a door behind them and leaning into it, forehead braced on the unforgiving oak.

"What was that?!" Neal demanded.

"I don't… I have no idea. It was like some of the earlier days here all over again, after I was done always being afraid of him. We weren't even friends yet."

"He didn't recognize me," Neal said slowly. "At all."

"He wouldn't, would he? If I'm right and this is the Rumplestiltskin I knew all those years ago, he'd have no idea what you look like as an adult. He only remembers the teenager he lost. He only knows me as the help."

All the questions he wanted to ask dried up when he realized she was crying into her hands, hunched over and shaking like she was in pain. He decided to let that be all they said about it for a while and pulled her over to the bed in the little room's corner, sitting on the end as she stretched out. After what felt like an eternity, Belle fell asleep. Exhausted by the troubled turn of events, he eventually did the same despite his uncomfortable position.

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"But how could this have happened?!" Neal demanded as Belle searched the castle pantry for anything still edible the next morning. The rations they'd brought on the journey were almost gone, and they would have to consider their next course of action if there was nothing to eat. He'd come to the castle hoping to find a way back to his own family, but seeing his father in such a condition had driven the thoughts clear out of his mind.

"I don't know! I'll try to find answers in the library, but the person who would know best is Rumple! We should send for someone. There has to be a witch or wizard in this land who could help us."

"There's Regina."

She shook her head wildly. "They were dangerous allies at best. He won't trust her anywhere near him."

"Can't you ask him yourself?"

Belle scoffed, but whatever disagreement she might have given was swallowed by a sudden, agonized cry above. Her lovely face immediately went pale, and Neal was again forced to trail her through the castle as she made her way unerringly to Rumple's side. They found him kneeling in the middle of his lab, half of his possessions broken around him. The look on his face was one of abject despair, and he seemed to be looking straight through Belle as she tried to help him up.

"You can't help me," he said dully. "You're dead. Because of me."

"No." She pressed her hands to his cheeks, trying to force him to meet her eyes. "I'm really here. I'm alive. It was all a lie."

He pushed her away, but there was no malice in the gesture. He stood, brushing debris from his knees with an absent gesture, then pulled a little white and blue china cup from the air and cradled it as if it was a baby bird.

"Belle," he murmured to it. "I'm so sorry."

Shaking her head as the tears threatened to return, Belle backed out of the room and fled. Neal hesitated before turning to his father and forcing a smile. "Sir? Do you need something?"

Rumplestiltskin studied him for a long moment. "You're the boy she brought here. She was always trying to save the wounded animals." It took great force of will to refrain from saying that in this case, _he _was the injured thing Belle was trying to help. Rumple looked similarly unsettled, but his impish laugh slipped out as the persona he'd spent so long crafting took over. "I seem to have misplaced my housekeeper. Are you looking for work or would you prefer to spend the rest of your life as a slug?"

"Work," Neal replied hurriedly. A slug wasn't precisely the same as a snail, but it was still a too-sharp reminder of what his father was capable of. Despite his newly remade trust, it seemed dangerous to tempt fate. "I was hoping for a job, and the woman in the village said no one had brought you your straw lately."

With a wave of his hand, the previously empty basket alongside the spinning wheel was overflowing with the very same. "Shame that you wasted a trip," Rumple said with a half-deranged titter. "A slug it is!"

"Rumple, wait!" Belle cried from the door.

The Dark One stilled automatically before curling in on himself. "You're not really there. Belle is gone, forever. It's not my fault." He backed away every time she got closer, but once he reached the wall there was no more space to retreat and he slid down until he was sitting, eyes closed as if he was afraid to look at her.

Ignoring his constantly whispered stream of grief, Belle folded herself into his arms. His hand went up to stroke her hair automatically despite his claims, and now there were tears on both faces. The moment was horribly private, and Neal felt like the worst sort of intruder. When Belle waved him out he was glad to go.

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It continued in a streak of endless pain. Almost every time they left him unattended, he seemed to slip into another aspect of his life. The most terrifying example came three days after their arrival, when another bloodcurdling scream filled the air. They found him in a heap on the floor, blood gushing from a wound in his chest as he plucked uselessly at the dagger embedded there. Their efforts to remove it were similarly fruitless, and in the end all they could do was carry him to his bedchamber to make him as comfortable as possible.

He looked like the old Rumple now, which made it somehow worse. The Dark One's aspect made him seem less human and therefore harder to empathize with. This was the man Neal remembered caring for him as a child, or the pawn broker of Storybrooke. This man wept from the pain and clutched at Belle every time she had to move for whatever reason, and though she smothered his face with kisses the damage continued to glare at them.

He begged them to end it even as he wished fervently for his son's forgiveness, the first time he'd recognized him as such. When the agony seemed to reach its peak Neal was tempted to do as his father asked and let him die, but he was just reaching for his sword when the wound sealed without warning and he was looking at the Dark One again.

"Who are you?" the wizard snapped waspishly.

Instead of answering immediately, Neal eased his blade back into the scabbard and set it aside. Sensing his father's mood changing to a less forgiving one, he looked up and hastened to reply. "It's me… Papa."

Now it was Rumple's turn to say nothing. Finally, as though drawing the syllable from a great distance, he spoke. "Bae."

"Yeah. I came home."

"It can't be. There's a prophecy, and you're all grown up. I just lost you a few days ago." His expression grew cold. "You can't be my son. Who are you really?"

"I can prove it," Neal said doggedly. "I was there the day you stole the dagger from the Duke's castle. You killed our maid after she saw it even though she couldn't tell anyone. I got a magic bean from the Blue Fairy to take us to a land without magic, but you were afraid and wouldn't come. Papa, it's really me."

"Bae," he said again, even more slowly. "Oh, my Bae. My boy."

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If Rumplestiltskin had been more responsive to Belle initially, Neal was now the one that had to handle his care. This was the Dark One of the early days, still half-mad with power and completely unaware of the role the brunette woman would play in his life one day. Neal had to warn her away more than once when his father's too volatile moods nearly ended in her getting hurt. He was less concerned with himself, since even in the grasp of his power lust Rumple had been careful not to harm his son. He slowly became less erratic, settling into his deal-making aspect instead of the wild magician. After a painfully long stretch of constant silence, he began to recognize Belle again and give instructions like she was still working for him. She obliged, not willing to upset him any further.

Throughout that, Neal was witness to one of the most astounding things he'd ever seen. His father was falling in love. Belle had told him their story on the way to the castle, but he'd barely believed it was possible. He could read the emotions on Rumple's face every time he thought no one was looking, the way his gaze lingered on Belle as she dusted or trimmed the stems of a vase full of roses. The deal-maker softened and fell away, leaving behind a version of the Dark One he'd never seen before. This one was soft and hesitant, more like the man he'd been before the power than Neal would have thought possible.

Despite the more positive developments, they remained in a precarious situation. Rumplestiltskin seemed to be cycling through his existence as the Dark One at an accelerated pace, traversing years' worth of development within days. They couldn't simply ask him what brought him back, since he only had the memories he would have possessed at that point in his life, and if the pattern continued he would wind up screaming in agony, a knife wound in his heart. The messengers he'd sent to the realm's magic users had gone unanswered, and Belle's searches of the library continually proved fruitless.

Things soured again when he came down one morning to find his father raging at Belle. She didn't fight back, but the tears and tightly clenched fists said enough. She had to relive the nightmare with him, and it wasn't right. He was her friend as much as he was his father's son, and he didn't know how to handle watching them both break. Eventually he muscled his father away and sent Belle outside, hoping she'd be able to calm down if they were separated long enough. That attempt proved similarly counterproductive.

Rumplestiltskin immediately lapsed back into the anguished depression that had been their first glimpse of the cycle. Without Belle there to serve as a constant reminder, he again believed she was dead for the apparently unforgiveable sin of going with him. The dagger appeared not much later. On and on it went.

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"The cycles are out of balance," Belle observed finally.

They had noticed very quickly that each rotation went more swiftly than the last, until there were only hours at best between stages.

Neal spared a glance at his father. It was currently the long stretch between the fading of his early madness and the awakening Belle gave him, and he was spinning quietly in the corner. If they weren't loud, he would essentially forget they were there. "What do you mean?"

"We've both seen how much less time we get before this starts over, but that's not all. The phases aren't proportional to what Rumple initially experienced. The worst parts – losing us, and dying – they're lasting longer than they should when compared to everything else. If it continues, I think the cycle will collapse."

"What does that even mean?"

She studied him over the edge of the book. "He'll die. It's a fatal wound."

Neal leapt to his feet and began pacing, ignoring the way Rumple started at the sudden movement before returning to the wheel and the endless production of gold. "What caused all this anyway? Can't we fix it?"

Belle sighed and shut the book after slipping a bit of ribbon in to mark her page. "I could hazard a guess, but that's it."

"That's better than what we've got so far. No one's even tried to help us."

"Based on what you've told me about Rumple becoming the Dark One and the few accounts in the library, stabbing the Dark One in the heart with the dagger gives that person their powers, right?"

Neal nodded, bewildered. "What about it?"

"Rumplestiltskin stabbed himself in the heart with the dagger. Since we were in a world where the Dark One's curse doesn't exist, I think things may have gotten jumbled up. Since he wasn't quite the Dark One, it considered him the one taking the Dark One's powers, but since he still is the Dark One in every other sense, he's dying to give them."

"If you're making a point, I don't get it."

"He's created a paradox in which he's taking the Dark One's powers but dying as a result. Eventually the paradox has to resolve itself, and the only sensible solution would be his death."

"But there has to be a way to stop it! What about true love's kiss?"

Belle shook her head. "I've tried, every time he's lying there in so much pain. Ever since the first time, it hasn't worked."

"First time?"

"After my talk with Regina, I came back and kissed him. He started to turn into a normal man again."

Neal's face fell. "So you're saying all we can do is keep him comfortable until we lose him again."

She blew out a long, tortured breath. "I don't know. I can't think of any other possibility."

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They fought for him, trying everything they could think of to take away his pain and stop the cycle's downward spiral. It didn't help, and now his happier times lasted minutes while the suffering seemed to stretch on forever.

Desperate, Neal turned to Belle. "You're sure true love's kiss can't help?"

"I told you, I've tried!" she protested.

He froze suddenly, mind racing. "It's the paradox."

"What?"

"He's not really the Dark One at the end. That's what you said. Have you ever kissed him outside that part? When he's still all scaly and not bleeding?"

"Yes, of course I – wait. No. Except that first time, I've only ever kissed him while he was Mr. Gold. I haven't kissed Rumplestiltskin!"

"Try it," he begged. "He's running out of time."

"But he's not Rumple now!"

It was true. The skin on his father's face was ashen and lined with pain, not shining gold. He looked out the window, silently begging the sun to spin faster so they would have a chance. It began to sink beneath the horizon, excruciatingly slow, and as it did the scales slid back across Rumplestiltskin's skin. The wound was gone again. Belle took a few steps back automatically, too many close calls reminding her that Rumple wasn't stable in the beginning. Neal tried to pull her back, but she resisted.

"This isn't my Rumple. He doesn't know me yet, so he can't love me."

Know – love – The thoughts shot through his mind like a rocket. "What about me? It doesn't have to be romantic love, right?"

"I don't know. It's worth a try."

Neal leaned in and pressed a kiss to his father's cool forehead. He could feel the magic move and shift, but the difference was small and he was afraid he'd failed. "Belle!"

"It's the curse!" she moaned. "It doesn't want to be destroyed; that's why I only started to break it the first time. One isn't enough!"

Rumple was staring at them in consternation now, not really recognizing either but sensing that something was wrong with him. Finally, his eyes softened and he reached for Belle, murmuring her name.

Her face became fierce. She hurried closer and slid into his arms before seizing his face and pulling him in. Neal looked away, a little embarrassed, but that was overwhelmed in short order when a powerful burst of energy ripped through the chamber, shaking the castle's very foundations. For a moment, everything was silent.

"Belle?"

The tone was a little gruff, but the low accent was so perfectly familiar he thought his heart would stop. Turning back, he saw her struggling to support Rumple as he slumped against her, one hand pressed to his ribs. A little blood trickled between his fingers, but it was nothing compared to the gaping hole they'd seen so many times.

"Papa?" he demanded, afraid to believe it.

He looked up. "Bae. Belle. Where – what happened? I should be dead."

Belle choked on a low laugh before tucking her face into the crook of his neck. "You almost were. You scared me, Rumple. We were afraid you wouldn't make it."

He was an intruder again, Neal realized. By rights, Belle was the one who managed to solve their dilemma, both in determining the source of the problem and providing the magic that remedied it. He would give them their moment and send word to the Blue Fairy. She owed him some healing magic at least. They all did, for what he'd sacrificed to save them.

When he came back, Rumple was struggling to get to his feet while Belle tried to persuade him to lie down and rest. His bad leg threatened to plunge him to the ground, but Neal managed to catch his arm in time to help.

"You're still bleeding, Papa. You should be more careful and listen to Belle."

Rumplestiltskin looked down at the blood soaking through his silk shirt. "This is nothing," he said with a wave of his hand.

Just like that, it was gone. Belle made a little gasping sound.

"You did magic," Neal said slowly. "But you're not the Dark One now."

Rumple had been shocked as well, but he recovered quickly. "It makes sense. I was the Dark One for hundreds of years, during which time I taught more than one pupil. I would be a terrible teacher if I didn't know how to do it myself." He flexed his fingers. "I think the difference is the power. Being the Dark One gave me almost unlimited energy, but that small spell was enough to make me tired."

"That could be from the wound as much as the magic," Belle suggested.

He nodded. "It's possible. It will take time to discover just how much of my ability I've lost. I need to stabilize my leg again as soon as possible."

"No," Belle said adamantly, surprising them both. "No more magic, Rumple. You know what it does to you."

After a beat, Rumple smiled. "You worry so much for me. I don't mean dark magic, Belle. I have no need for it now. As much as you may dislike my using magic, the fact remains that it is part of who I am and I have no other way to provide for you. I will be careful, though, and you may feel free to pull me back if you ever think I'm going too far."

Sensing that was the best she would get, Belle reluctantly acquiesced and helped him to his feet while Neal went to fetch his staff. Rumple accepted it gratefully and shifted most of his weight to it so he didn't put too much pressure on Belle.

"Before… all this," Neal said suddenly, "I came here hoping you could get me back to Storybrooke. I need to find Emma and my son."

Rumple sighed. "I don't know, Bae. It took hundreds of years and the most powerful dark curse in the world to reach that land, and Regina's breaking it means all the normal routes will be closed. There may not be a way back." He held up a hand against his son's protests. "But I will try."

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AN: So this was my first foray into Once Upon A Time. It was kind of weird; I've been following the show since it started but this story was the only one that insisted on being written so far. Please, by all means, tell me what you think (and give title suggestions if you have them; I couldn't think of anything good for the life of me). Till next time!


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